The Laws of Love
by silvereyedbitch
Summary: This is to be almost totally fluffy/smutty goodness. Just in that kind of mood. So you have been warned. Don't go looking for spellbinding writing here. It's just a good emotional & physical romp. Warning: M/M, emotional angst, and borderline porn.


Setting: End of the CFT just after Damien walks off from seeing Tarrant's head thrown in the fire. Thus far, Tarrant had been able to keep his powers and whatnot as a boon from the Iezu mother. He hid this fact from Damien, however, for reasons of his own. Then that insufferable prick Andrys went and got things all screwy with the "I want revenge" crap. At any rate, Damien has left the scene at the keep.

A/N: This is to be almost totally fluffy/smutty goodness. Just in that kind of mood. So you have been warned. Don't go looking for spellbinding writing here. It's just a good emotional & physical romp.

Warnings: M/M, Emotional angst, fluff/smut, borderline porn.

The Laws of Love

There was nothing. Just one foot in front of the other as he meandered back into the city, with all its useless and teeming life. A few teenagers pointed at him and laughed thinking him drunk. _If only_, Damien wished as he plodded seemingly aimless toward the general direction of his apartment. He stopped at one intersection and gazed down toward a bar, and he almost turned. Almost. Then his legs began their repetitive jerking motion again, and he realigned himself with his building. Reaching it seemed to take ages. Sorrow can lengthen even the most simple of activities.

But was it sorrow? _Should_ he be saddened? He was lost in that pondersome thought as he entered the humble living space afforded him by the church. _Someone who just sacrificed everything for this wretched race of mankind was just murdered right in front of me. Of course I should feel betrayed, upset, and… _his thoughts slowed to a single point of focus. _Alone_, he finished. He felt so empty now and without purpose. The beat of his heart in his chest seemed to be a betrayal in itself_. __**I**__ should be dead there, too, beside him. Why did I leave him? Everything that happened to him after that, then, is MY fault! _He slid down the back of his front door and onto the wooden floor. And there, with his knees to his chest and head bowed, Damien Vryce wept as the dark despair set its hooks in his soul and pulled him ever deeper into its guilt and madness. _I held myself so very high above him with my ideals, and it turns out I'm the morally bankrupt one_, he sobbed. His thoughts floated over their time and experience together, and he observed the changes in the man from a different perspective now. _His redemption, right there, so close…now lost forever. There is no atonement I can offer for this brand of duplicity. I am doomed to forever carry within me this knowledge, this hurt, this loss. Can there __**be**__ any greater punishment than self-recrimination for such a heinous act? _His thoughts became blurred as he sank into darkness.

When he awoke, he realized there was a blanket draped over his shoulders. Instantly, he came to consciousness, now battle wary of who may be occupying the apartment with him. He swept the surrounding gloom carefully with his eyes. And a voice drifted out from the living area just ahead that froze the synapses in his brain, "Do not fear for your safety, priest. You know I have never yet made good on my threat to end your existence…and it seems a poor time to start. Especially given your current emotional state." Smooth and deliciously familiar, the Hunter's voice echoed around in his head even after the words had ceased. Impossible. _Now I know I'm over the deep end_, he thought to himself. A slight chuckle issued forth from the same source, "You can spend all day in your 'deep end,' or you can come over here and confirm your sanity, such as it is."

Damien stood in one lurching motion, the blanket sliding from his shoulders, feeling as though in a dream. Entering the other room, he found himself staring into the silver-gray eyes that had haunted his every thought for the last few hours. Since Damien was obviously dumbstruck, Tarrant stood fluidly and reached out to the ex-priest's shoulder. "See, I'm real. Now will you please get control of yourself so that I may explain the reality of things for you?" said the Hunter in a slightly condescending tone. But with that touch, Damien's confusion and sorrow turned demon red. Snatching his shoulder back, he stared in anger at Tarrant. "You bastard," he began in a low and threatening tone, "You play with others' feelings as a child does with a doll. We only amuse you. Is that it? Did you find it entertaining to sit in here and feed off of my pain? _Did you_?!" His face flushed red now, Damien could barely hold himself in check. "To think I felt any sorrow at your death!" he spat out. The anger he felt was sickening but also liberating. It was so much better than the dark despair he had been lost to shortly ago. And he had obviously caught Tarrant by surprise for the very first time judging by the slowly evolving change taking place behind those lustrous eyes.

Damien gathered his thoughts quickly as Tarrant began to reply, but he interrupted him, "No. No more of your lies and manipulations Hunter. I won't have it. Do you hear me?! I. Won't. Have. It." He spun and headed for the door as Tarrant reached out toward him and tried to speak once more. But yet again, Damien spoke over him, "I don't care. Whatever your explanation, whatever your motives. I don't care anymore." He grabbed his coat from the chair by the door and turned just slightly back towards the adept. Tarrant had silently closed the distance and was now a pace or two behind him. The ex-priest stopped him with a hard look in the eye and said, "You will be gone from here when I get back. Gone from my life forever. Nothing could please me more at this moment." And with that, he turned back to the door in the heavy silence, steeling himself for the tirade that would be coming from Tarrant any second, the berating over what an idiot child he was acting as.

But what followed was not yelling. It was not anger or heated words. It was not even closely related. As his hand grasped the knob, he heard a sharp intake of breath. And then another, cut off sharply as if strangled. His hand stopped cold. _What the…?_ he thought. Slow and quiet, he rotated on the balls of his feet until he found the source of the strange noise. Tarrant stood there in the moonlight from the windows, ever pale as death itself, with silent tears falling from his pleading eyes. As they slid down his face, they seemed to be streams of silver flowing forth from the glowing pools that desperately sought Damien's attention. Hands and arms tensely held at his sides, Tarrant had never looked so fragile and vulnerable. The effect was so stunning that Damien couldn't speak.

As soon as Damien had turned and saw him, though, Tarrant turned his face toward the floor and closed his eyes, causing a cascade of tears to patter lightly down. In a voice barely audible to the living, he whispered, "Please…no." The profound misery in the adept's voice so perfectly reflected his own that Damien found himself standing within inches of Tarrant and not knowing how he had come to stand there. While the Hunter still faced the floor, Damien looked down at him and said quietly, "I don't understand."

"You wouldn't," replied Tarrant, slowly bringing his liquid eyes back up to face the ex-priest. "I kept it so deeply hidden. I thought I would never have the chance to… I believed it best…" Tarrant trailed off as though he couldn't find the words. Anguish filled his face. Damien was still in shock at this display of open emotion from the one being he thought incapable of even the slightest of feelings. He tried to open a conversational path, "Hunter, I…" But Tarrant interrupted, "Is that all I am? Truly? Am I just some monster?" he demanded. Then he continued softly, "It must be so. I surely am deserving of nothing else _but_ your hatred." And with that, the adept drew apart from the ex-priest, appearing to shrink in on himself as he went.

Damien recovered his senses somewhat at the movement and reached out to grab Tarrant's shoulder. The adept froze as though encapsulated within ice as soon as contact was made. Damien started, "Look, I don't know what's going on with you, but maybe I can help?" As mad as he was a few minutes ago, his nature demanded nothing less from him. For a few moments Damien thought he might need to repeat himself, so motionless was the man in front of him. Then, Tarrant whirled around, his chosen direction bringing him into a kind of one-armed embrace with Damien. Acutely aware of the adept's proximity, Damien was too unsettled from everything else to move back a pace. Tarrant stared hard into the ex-priest's eyes as if seeking some hidden knowledge. Finally, just as Damien was beginning to feel uncomfortable with the intimate lack of space between them, the adept spoke, face inches away from his own, "Can you not _see_?" he queried as if confused, "What is there to understand?! I _**love**_ you, you idiot!" Both of the adept's arms came up, faster than humanly possible, and he pushed Damien away and fell back on the couch bonelessly to stare up at nothing.

"Oomph," was the first thing that Damien said as he hit the floor quite a distance away. _Strong bastard_, he thought. Then the other man's words hit him. _**WHAT?! **_He was paralyzed. He was drunk. He was hallucinating; that had to be it. No, this was another of Tarrant's nightmares. Any minute he would awaken on the ship to find that he had served up a fine meal of fear once again. Or, was he really insane? That must be it. He raised his head from the floor and looked to the couch. _He's still there. And imagined craziness doesn't usually get physical with you,_ he reasoned. What to do? _Oh God, he loves me! Me?!_ Of all the outcomes of this last day, Damien would never have guessed this one. Who knew?

Slowly, as he remained there on the floor, feelings once set aside almost a year prior began to return on their own. The possibility hadn't even been remote back then, he had thought, and so he had repressed any possible feelings or infatuation that had tried to develop during their journeys. But now…his head spun. He raised his head again to ascertain that the Hunter was indeed still on his couch. Not dead. Not gone forever. Here. And he loves him! A new feeling began to spread throughout Damien's body. Warm and light, it buoyed him up, and he heaved himself off of the floor. Tarrant's eyes snapped over to his location, warily observing his motions. Tears still leaked down the sides of the adept's face.

Damien came close to the side of the couch and knelt by Tarrant's head. The adept shut his eyes and turned his head slightly away from Damien. It was an almost-cringe. And it hurt Damien deeply to see that he was the cause of this. He reached over Tarrant, careful not to startle him. He slid his arm under the shoulder facing away from him and lifted. This brought the other man over to his edge of the couch, and then Damien used the other arm to wrap him in a tight embrace.

How strange, and yet how right, holding Tarrant in this manner felt. The adept hung loosely in his arms at first. Then, tentatively, he slid his hands around Damien and clung to him fiercely. They held each other like that in silence for a few minutes, feeling out how to proceed from there. Finally, Damien whispered, "I thought you were gone forever. I've never felt such pain before." He felt Tarrant tighten his grip slightly in acknowledgement as he also nodded against Damien's shoulder. "There was no time to explain, Damien. The power I was using required the utmost concentration, and in order for it to work, all who were present to see it needed total belief in the scene. You would have seen through it because of our bond, so I sent you away with a Compulsion. If even one person viewing the illusion does not hold it as true in his heart, then it will be nullified. It matters not now, since the scene has been completed. But I could not come out until they were all gone. And by then…so were you."

Damien was going to say…something. He didn't know what, but he opened his mouth to try to fumble through some sort of assurance. Tarrant beat him to it, though. "Let me say a few things more before you render any sort of judgment upon my actions." Tarrant pulled back from their embrace to better see the other's eyes. "I have done terrible things in my long life, and many I _still_ find trouble regretting, even now that my Contract has been broken. A millennium of evil is not so easy to put aside, Damien. I can feel it, even now…a compulsion to pull the soul from your body, the marrow from your bones. And it sickens me. This sick feeling, however, gives me hope that _**I**_ may still be there buried beneath the layers of shadow. A human soul may still reside somewhere within this demon's shell. I only hope you will be able to focus on the present circumstances…and not my dark and distant past."

Damien listened quietly, absorbing the potential danger (and hope) that the words conveyed. He thought over the many atrocities of the legendary Hunter, the Darkest Prince of Hell. He considered the changes evidenced within the same Dark Prince as they had traveled together, bled together. And within his heart and mind, he found the answer he was seeking. It was not one of words, but of deeds. Silent as the wind across a grave, Damien's hand slid up Tarrant's arm, to his neck, and rested there. The Hunter's skin still seemed to emanate a coolness, but nothing near the icy bite of before. Slowly, he drew the adept's face to his own, hesitating a final moment as their lips hung so close. Then, finalizing his decision, he pulled the man into an altogether different embrace.

Damien's focus came down to the point of contact. Lips smooth and cool as silk parting to reveal inner warmth. Tongues sweeping together, and canines sharp and dangerous. Nothing of his previous romantic encounters had prepared him for the inundation of feelings and swirling emotions that loosed upon this first kiss. Warmth and hope, lightning and rain, sunshine and mist, all combined into one thought and feeling here in this room. The perfection of this moment in time would never happen again, he knew. It was one of those small miracles of life that are often taken for granted. But here and now, Damien vowed to never let this memory fade from his heart.

As Damien slowly became aware of his surroundings again, he realized with a jolt that they had progressed from the couch to the carpet. Tarrant noticed the sudden hesitant change in body language and looked questioningly into Damien's eyes. _Am I ready for this? With him? I mean, it could be dangerous, right?_ Damien thought. And an answering voice whispered calmly in the corners of his mind, _Never to you, Damien. I am never a danger to __**you**__._ His eyes flicked back up to Tarrant's sincere, and almost-smiling, face. His concerns banished as Tarrant opened their channel wider yet and allowed Damien to see, to experience, what the Hunter himself was feeling at that moment. There was so much inner turmoil that Damien felt lost at first. Such anger, hatred, guile, and evil concentrated in one soul had an involuntary shiver running down Damien's spine. But though there was darkness enough to fill the blackest depths of space, so also was there a small light that existed just beyond all that. It was so fragile that directly focusing on it made it seemingly disappear. It was only apparent in the periphery of one's consciousness. And there, in that tiny flickering nimbus of light, Damien felt the love Tarrant felt for him wash over him. Deeply hidden, partially denied, but uncovered at long last. All it needed was proper tending, and eventually perhaps it could outgrow the shadows within.

He came back to the present and found Tarrant still there, still gazing at him with those luminous silver orbs. He would have said something, but he decided not to break the moment with his often clumsy and blunt statements. Instead, he reached out again and pulled the adept to himself. Their bodies meshed together perfectly as they kissed once again, exploring possibilities. The cool, strong feel of the Hunter moving against him brought Damien no small amount of arousal. In fact, he was surprised how quickly his body had chosen to adapt and accept a male partner. Time to consider that later, though.

Tarrant flipped Damien to the bottom and hooked a finger under the topmost button of the ex-priest's shirt. With one downward motion, he easily stripped the shirt of its buttons and spread it open to reveal Damien's rather large and well-muscled chest wall. "I could have just taken it off," Damien said. A quirk of the adept's eyebrow was the only response he got as Tarrant ran his slender fingers over Damien's collarbone and slowly on down to his abdomen. When his hands reached the midpoint, they slid around behind the ex-knight, and Tarrant bent over him and drew a lazy circle on his neck with his tongue. Then his mouth closed over the spot, and he gave a quick nip, eliciting a low moan from Damien's lips.

Damien's hands went for the belt at Tarrant's waist. Somehow, though, he just couldn't make them work for him anymore. Seeing his companion's obvious distress, the adept smiled inwardly. He rose up and grabbed the ex-knight's hands with his own, forcing them to the coverlet. Damien saw a wicked smirk pass across the adept's face before those silver eyes shut a second later. A wind blew through the room suddenly, and where it touched them, the fabric of their clothes melted as though composed of liquid silk and fell away.

Nothing between them now but their own inhibitions, Tarrant opened his eyes again and glared triumphantly down at Damien. He leaned back over the priest and caught him up in another fiery and impassioned kiss. The feel of the Hunter's throbbing arousal against his belly raised Damien to new heights of physical awareness. Every pulse of their frantically beating hearts brought them closer to this ultimate act of love. No sooner was he thinking this than Tarrant's hand reached down past his belly and stroked a small gasp out of Damien's throat. Too much, it was too much. He needed that union of singularity now!

With a grunt, he sat up and lifted the Hunter over his lap and positioned him differently, and somewhat awkwardly. Seeking the proper angle was a challenge, but not one that he wasn't up for. As Tarrant continued trailing his alternating warm and cool kisses down Damien's torso and neck, the ex-priest finally achieved what he had been seeking. Without much further ado, he lowered the adept onto his shaft slowly, a heavy coating of pre-cum slicking the way. The shiver and intake of breath from the adept rebounded through the bond and just about shattered Damien's concentration. It was mind-altering how wonderful this felt. Tarrant picked up the tempo of his occupied hand and used the other to steady himself by grasping the lower portion of the ex-knight's back. And then they moved together in a world of their own, lit by pleasure and love and hope for each other. Sweat-slicked and flame hot, they moved against one another, completing an act perhaps older than time itself. An affirmation of life. A confirmation of love. And in Damien's mind, there could be no more beautiful sight than what he beheld after Tarrant reached the summit of their act and fell headfirst over the edge: a smile. The first of many, he hoped.

End Note: Hope my three readers all enjoyed that! I was just in a mopey mood and needed some fluffy smut to perk me up. And now, back to schoolwork!


End file.
